A Bayou Brat

[Gothicruby]

A Bayou Brat

 

 

The roaring engine. The flying debris. The stench of gasoline searing through his nostrils. 

 

Thwack—!

 

Logan growled, shaking the image out of his vision. Yet, try as he might, the sound of it still rings in his ears. 

 

The wet crack echoes across the tarmac…

 

Another growl, lower this time. The thought won’t scarper. Instead, a sneering laugh rumbled through his skull—“This some kinda joke, runt!” the monster barks out, claws inches from Remy’s head—

 

“Fuck—!” 

 

The chair gave a shrill squeal, knocked back against the wall. The Wolverine was on his feet now, knuckles shoved through the reinforced steel and a snarl curled over the grizzled lips. Like blades through butter. 

 

She paused mid-step. He turns, their eyes lock…and then he was back in the room. 

 

Ororo stood deathly still, though there was no fear in her eyes. There’s no reason to be, as far as she’s concerned, not of Logan, not tonight. 

 

Still, the man made a point of retracting his claws out of the wall. A breath, almost painful sounding, forced calm through every fibre of his being. Another breath, through the nose this time…

 

But when he opened his eyes again she’d already gone back to pacing. 

 

“Stupid, insolent boy…” 

 

Her mantra for the evening. Logan didn’t disagree. 

 

Time always dragged in the waiting room; under the mansion’s floor-boards, where the fluorescent light cast sickly hues of something not quite yellow, not quite green over linoleum tile…

 

Logan shook his head. A trigger for another time. He hated medical wings, but in this line of work it was impossible not to have to venture down here every so often. Not for himself, mind. 

 

Hell, if it was for himself…hell…

 

He’d deal. 

 

Ororo’s heels clacked a little louder in his ear now; anxious and impatient…yet, if she were standing still, you’d never know by looking at her. Not unless you got close enough to really gaze deep in her eyes. 

 

“Hey…” he stepped out carefully, catching her shoulder before she could pass “Slow down a sec will ya darlin’? Ya makin’ me dizzy.” 

 

If he weren’t so weary then Logan might have tried harder to chuckle, but honestly, she was glad he didn’t. Still, Ororo’s gaze didn’t seem to soften but Logan knew better than to believe it. The worry danced in her eyes like a blaze, though she didn’t have the luxury of showing it. 

 

‘Curse of the weather goddess’ He remembered her calling it once, way back over a beer. In her rage she could call all manner of weather forth; storms, floods, blizzards of biblical proportions…and heaven help any of them should she ever lose her cool. When Logan had called her he’d swore he’d heard a clap of thunder on the other end, but they were looking at well over an hour now since he’d brought the Cajun in…neither of them were getting anywhere stuck in their own heads like this. 

 

“Just what was he thinking, Logan?” came the half-muttered breath, Logan could only shake his own head with a short sigh of his own. 

 

“You know that boy better than I do ‘Ro, no use askin’ me. Way I saw it he didn’t look like he was thinkin’ at all.” 

 

Their gazes broke now as Ororo’s eyes slipped shut and her brow furrowed almost painfully. He kept a hand rubbing idly up her forearm in consolation. He hated being right. 

 

“And now it’ll be a miracle if he ever gets the chance to start…” she sighed, pulling back a step or two. Logan didn’t stop her, just watched as she pinched the bridge of her nose and rocked her weight from one hip to another. 

 

“It was the chevy?” 

 

Logan blinked at the abrupt question. 

“What?” 

 

“Your chevy, you said he…rode it into Sabretooth?” 

 

Ah. 

 

“Tried to,” he breathed again, this time with just the faintest hint of a snort “But you know that bastard…spryer than he looks…” 

 

Now it was Logan’s turn to close his eyes and try not to blow. Just the thought of that bastard towering over Gambit like that…a growl caught in the gruff man’s throat. 

 

“Damn kid didn’t even have enough sense t’be scared…” 

 

Ororo’s gaze snapped back over, but Logan didn’t meet it this time. His eyes were open, albeit drawn off in the distance, but he wasn’t quite…here…

 

A flash of pink, before it all went white. Shrapnel caught in Logan’s eye. 

 

“You did what you could Logan, more than any of us even,” Ororo’s hand on his shoulder caught him off guard; he hadn’t heard her approach, rare for him, but she didn’t seem to pay it much mind. Nor to the breath that hissed out through his teeth. 

 

“Not enough t’keep ‘im from blowin’ the car to bits…” and launch himself off along with it. 

 

“Damn little brat…” 

 

“I know…” Ororo sighed gently, but Logan’s head snapped up in surprise all the same. She wouldn’t have meant that in the vein he did. She gave his arm a squeeze before loosing her grip, though when she moved off to pace again, it wasn’t with the same intensity as before. He watched her move again, this time under a more critical eye. There was something she wasn’t telling him. 

 

“He’s been acting…off, lately.” Ororo supplied after a few beats, earning a soft snort from the other. 

 

“I dunno, if ya told me yesterday that Gambit’d nearly blow my van t’pieces, I’d have a hard time not believin’ ya…” 

That earned him a look. 

 

“With him in it?” she supplied, perhaps a bit sharper than she meant but Logan wasn’t phased. 

 

“Boy’s a wild card—” no pun intended “—And a gambler to boot. Must’ve figured he had good odds.” 

 

Now it was Ororo’s turn to play the sceptic. 

 

“If you really believed that, would you have still followed him out?” 

 

A scoff caught in Logan’s throat.

 

“Touchè…” He half-grinned despite himself, but Ororo wasn’t in the mood for his dry wit. She turned again, muttering something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch. It didn’t stop him taking a step forwards. 

 

Now it’s true that Ororo had a few inches on him, give or take, vertically speaking but it made no difference when he came to wrap his arms around her; after a moment of thought, she seemed to meld against him easily enough, her cheek pressed to his temple as some of the tension eased out of her frame. A private gesture that was growing more and more familiar between them. 

 

“What ain’t ya tellin’ me darlin’?” he drawled softly.

 

“Nothing, really…” Came the sigh, sincere as it was exhausted “It’s just funny how you start thinking after the fact about everything you could’ve done to…” 

 

Ororo trails, but Logan murmurs all the same as he presses her just that bit tighter into the warmth of his arms. 

 

“Nothin’ more ya could’a done, ‘Ro. Jus’ said it yaself, didn’t ya?” 

 

“Yes, but as you said, I know him better.” 

 

Circles; they were going in bleeding, fucking circles…

 

Logan kept the sigh at the back of his throat this time, letting her sink that bit closer against her. 

 

“We’re gettin’ nowhere fast here, girl.” 

 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at him, Logan.” 

There was no sigh in Ororo’s breath this time; just a crisp conviction, of which Logan couldn’t tell if he should be relieved that they were getting somewhere or worried about how much blame she was shouldering here. 

 

“He’s a big boy y’know ‘Ro,” arguably, anyway “I’d have thought he would’a been able to take a couple sharp words now an’ then.” 

 

“Not with the nerve I hit.” she murmurs softly, now, into the side of his hair. Logan’s brow furrows. 

 

“That bad, huh?” 

 

Must’ve been if she was beating herself up like this. Usually, Ororo was practically the picture of objectivity; she put good old Cyclops to shame a few times, stepping back and putting everything in  perspective. 

 

“Looking back…I think I could’ve handled it differently.” She assented with just the hint of a shrug. 

 

“Hind-sight’s 20/20 darlin’, hell, any of us had that kinda power we’d be rulin’ the goddamn world right now.” 

 

A mirthless laugh bubbled from her chest. 

 

“Maybe, but does that ever help?” 

 

His shoulders sag with a grim chuckle of his own. 

 

“Not even once.” 

 

They stayed like that for a few moments more, leaning into each other’s weight and just enjoying the silence. It was numb and weightless, but they needed it. Each beat of her heart helped clear the junk being dredged up from the back of his mind and, likewise, his scent was like a calming force against her once-budding migraine. 

 

The fugue stretched on a bit. Then, just when Logan had been considering opening his mouth to ask again about this supposed ‘matter’, a tinny crash echoed into the corridor. The abruptness of it all was enough to pull them back down to earth and send them running towards it before either realised what they were doing. 

 

Logan barrelled ahead, shoving through the weighted double doors like a line-backer in play, following the still-raging commotion until he reached the end of the corridor. More tinny-sounding things crashed against the linoleum. He turned a corner, but his stride was stopped when the good doctor himself stepped out in front of him. 

 

“The hell happened?” The veteran barked, earning himself a look from Hank. Logan just met it with the same tact he afforded everyone and kept on glaring expectantly. 

 

“Hank?” Ororo sounded from just over Logan’s shoulder, the latter of whom snapped his head around to meet her gaze as she was hovering up. 

 

He hated how she could do that sometimes. 

 

Nevertheless, Storm was a mighty fine peace-maker; where Logan opened his mouth to demand, she just set a hand on his shoulder to quiet him while she pressed Hank with a more curious glance of her own. 

 

The doctor had looked…better…to say the least. Ordinarily, Hank kept himself fairly put together for such a large, intimidating frame—but standing before her Ororo couldn’t help but notice the char marks around his spectacle lenses, or how the ends of his fur seemed a bit…blackened…by something. 

 

The beastly mutant hefted a sigh, lifting the glasses from the brim of his nose. 

 

“It’s fine, really. I think I just startled him, is all, charged the bedsheets out from under me.” 

 

“He’s awake?” Ororo blinked. 

 

“Yes—” Hank winced as another crash sounded from just inside his ward “—And in a rather…surly mood…though a concussion will do that, I suppose.” 

 

Logan’s brow furrowed again.

“Christ, what’s that kid up to this time…” 

 

Hank shook his head and just gestured absently out with his hands. 

 

“I was actually coming to find you to—” another noise; a sharp, glassy pop “—Ask for your help. Since there’s no sign of a bleed or haemorrhage, I think a sedative would do him some good,” 

 

“Better fuckin’ hurry by the sound!” 

 

“Wait a minute—” Ororo started, but it fell on deaf ears. The two men just strode on ahead towards the curtain that separated the patient’s bed-area from the main ward. Logan flung it back like tissue-paper and Hank could only let out a choked sort of sound at the state of his poor ward.

 

“Stars and garters!” 

 

“Goddamnit, kid…” 

 

A train-wreck. It was an utter hell-scape if Logan had ever seen and that was saying something. Glass crunched beneath his old boots as he nearly stumbled over an upturned medical tray, while the scent of scorched everything assaulted his sensitive nostrils. 

 

As bad as it all looked, though, neither mutant were stopping to gawk. It was over by the wall, where it had been roughly shoved by the looks, that their attentions were soon drawn. The culprit in question was currently hunched over on himself; crouched down, one hand bracing his weight on the mattress and a slightly blood-spattered sheet drawn across his waist and the only bit of ‘clothing’ he seemed to have. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” came the hissing as Remy seemed to rock slightly on the balls of his feet. 

 

Logan marched forwards at once. 

 

“For cryin’ out loud, what’ve ya done now…” The veteran muttered, more to himself than anything, as he reached to hoist the Cajun up. 

 

“Fuck off, Logan…!” Remy just grunted back, shrugging his shoulders and trying to wriggle out from the firm grip. It was a feeble attempt and a damn good thing that Logan wasn’t the type to just give in. Between the glazed look in the younger mutant’s eyes and the unsteady footing, he was probably the only thing keeping Remy from smacking his head on the floor. 

 

“Settle down…” was Logan’s soft order as he started herding the kid back towards the bed.

 

Taking note of the blood still spattering over the tattered sheet, Hank came padding urgently around for a closer look. Remy was seated now, thankfully, but no less agreeable and just kept slipping the blue-furred doctor’s grip every chance he could. 

 

“Let me see—Remy, let me see…Good lord, don’t tell me you actually blew up your cannula?” Hank frowned disapprovingly at the wound, more-so as the hand was once again snatched back. 

 

“Not my fault homme… Ya shouldn’t’a been stickin’ me with anythin’ anyway. Permission an’ all that.” Remy glowered darkly from under raggedy, auburn strands. The young face was pale, gaunt even, with dark circles threatening to weigh down what was usually an otherwise bright gaze. 

As a doctor, Hank wasn’t too shocked (the concussion and all that), but to anyone out of the know, it would’ve been a rather grim sight. 

 

“Usually, when dealing with the unconscious, the idea is to do what’s necessary to get them well. Inserting a means for treatment, for example—”

 

“Didn’t ask for a health-lecture, Mc’Coy!” 

 

“Hey!” Logan was quick to reprimand “Rope it in, bub. And how about a little gratitude while you’re at it; ya lucky Hank was here t’save that half-empty head o’yours.” 

 

“Like you’re one to talk, mon ami?” the Cajun snapped right back. 

 

“Gentlemen, please, if I could just get a look—” Hank earnestly pressed, but even in the heat of the moment Remy wasn’t giving his hand over. 

 

“I ain’t the one who near blew myself sky-high!” 

 

“Well ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ ya from goin’ an’ blowin’ yaself righ—”

 

“Watch it, kid.” 

 

“Or what? Huh? You gon’ spank me, ol’ man?! An’ will you fuckin’ fuck off Mc’Coy?!” 

 

The injured hand once again sparked a furious pink, along with the sheet still cinched around Remy’s waist. Naturally, Hank sprang back a step or two with his hands splayed out on the defensive but there Logan still stood; as if torn about going on the offensive. 

 

Grabbing him wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. If Gambit wanted to blow that sheet then it wasn’t whether he’d let go or not, but about when he thought about releasing the charge…but, hell, if he wasn’t thinking clearly right now…he’d just wind up blowing his goddamn legs off!

 

He braced his legs and steadied his arms. Footsteps were storming in the distance. 

 

“Remy LeBeau!” the thunderous shout echoed against the tiles, startling all three men out of their collective skins. The charge dropped, along with Remy, who staggered back and landed flat on his bare backside. 

 

Ororo Munroe strode forth with a stern conviction that Logan wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from her outside of their most dire straights. Though she wore a stern face, the weather goddess held a collected air about her which would have made anyone, twenty-eight or eighty, feel like a child. 

 

She came to a halt right in front of the wayward youth, arms folded sternly against her chest. Remy didn’t make a move to stand; if anything he seemed almost stuck under her gaze, like a toddler with its’ mother. Ororo wasn’t phased, nor did she give him the opportunity to process the shock. 

 

“That’s quite enough of that. How dare you speak to the people who care about you in such a vulgar way!” 

 

The Cajun stared dumbly up at her. The devil-red eyes were wide and perplexed, while his mouth seemed to try and be working around some kind of retort. 

 

“B-but…But Stormy…!” 

 

“No. I absolutely refuse to hear it!” Ororo cut in at once, the sputtering dying down in an instance “I don’t care if you’re angry and I don’t care if you think it’s unfair. You were in a horrific accident, Remy, you’re hurt. The last thing you should be doing is pushing away those who want to help, much less threatening them for trying!” 

 

With a grimace Remy cringed back against the tile and, honestly, Logan couldn’t blame him. While he considered himself a fairly scary being, what with the claws and the temper, he honestly had nothing on Ororo when it came to matters like this. The woman just knew how to get right to the heart of the matter and put it all in perspective; no frills, no fuss. 

 

Point. Blank. Lecture. 

 

The kid made to open his mouth again, but one firm shake of her head closed it right back up. 

 

“No excuses, Remy. I’ve had enough. Now; Logan’s going to come help you up. You’re going to be sat back on that bed. You’re going to calm yourself down and, more importantly, you’re going to let Hank have a look at your hand. No whining—”

 

“But—”

 

“—No complaining, or I’m going to be extremely cross with you, child.” 

 

Ouch. Well if that wasn’t cutting it to the quick then Logan just didn’t know what was. He just about managed to hold back a wince of his own, but still, poor kid. 

 

The youth’s shoulders slumped heavily in shame as, suddenly, it became rather difficult to hold Ororo’s gaze. ‘Christ,’ Logan thought, watching as the younger man nibbled his lip ‘He looks like a little kid…’ 

 

Not that he could blame him. Hell, Ol’ Sabretooth’d probably be holding back tears after that. 

 

Logan shook his head, clearing the thought. Mull later; right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to. 

 

In the few moments that had passed Remy hadn’t made any attempt to glance up, much less move, so clearly Logan was going to be taking charge here. He took a few steps forwards. Careful, but not exactly silent; biker boots didn’t often afford the luxury, but still the younger man didn’t seem to notice until he was practically right on top of him. 

 

Sharply, he hunched forward. There was a whine. Logan’s brow furrowed at the sight. 

 

“Remy…” Ororo started to chide, until Logan stuck his hand out. 

“Hang on ‘Ro…” something was up… ‘That smell…’

 

He dropped to one knee and reached for the sheet still draped around the younger’s waist. At a glance it seemed fine, but as soon as Remy flinched to move away it all became painfully obvious what had happened. The stench of ammonia wafted into the air like a metal sheet and Logan had to turn his head away as his suspicions were confirmed. 

 

The thin wadding beneath the Cajun’s bottom was absolutely drenched; a small pool was beginning to seep out from the stained mess of linen and would’ve gone further had Logan not reached to halt the kid’s frantic scooting. 

 

The stern glower immediately fell from Ororo’s face, replaced by nothing but utter concern as Remy summoned enough nerve to glance back up at her. 

 

“I…I-I didn’t mean t’—”

“I know…” she cut him off gently, taking a step forwards. 

 

Together, she and Logan helped lift Remy out of the mess and back to his feet. Embarrassing as it may have been, it was better for him standing up and out of it rather than scooting it all with him across the floor. 

 

The Cajun stood, cheeks flushed crimson with neither of the elder two mutants moving their hands off of his shoulders. 

 

“It’s the concussion, Remy,” Hank stepped in to assure. Despite the havoc the youth might have wreaked on his medical ward, Mc’Coy was never going to be anything but gentle. He stepped around the mess towards the bed, dragging it down a few feet so as to have a defined boundary between the ‘medical waste’ and his patient. 

 

“It really is very common,” The good doctor spoke kindly still “And temporary, of that I’m certain. It’s the blood vessels in the head, you see, they’ve probably just been bruised from the impact. Here, sit back down, let me have a look at your hand, we’ll sort all of this out in due time.” 

 

—

 

Were it not for Mc’Coy’s kindly chatter, the next half an hour or so would have seemed very grim indeed. While the doctor made meticulous work of picking glass out of Remy’s skin, Logan took up a mop and did what he could about the ‘accident.’ The floor was no big deal, but the sheets weren’t worth trying to save. 

 

Meanwhile, Ororo hadn’t left Remy’s side. While the cajun sat, hunched and sulking, in the middle of the bed she was seated right beside him; both hands set comfortingly atop his shoulders while she whispered soothing things that Logan had the good sense not to eavesdrop on. 

 

It was times like these, in fact, that reminded Logan about how she was probably the only thing keeping that boy on the straight and narrow. 

 

Now, that was nothing against Rogue; but the young lovers still had a ways to go before they’d be ready to lay everything out on the table. In the meanwhile, that’s what Ororo was for…

 

Logan didn’t know all the details, yet…but he knew it had something to do with shared experiences. Namely, the thieving. Whatever kind of a past that Ororo had put behind her served her well to keep Remy relapsing into worse. 

 

If anything…she was the only thing keeping him calm right now. 

 

With the job done, Logan set the mop and bucket in the corner and moved back towards where the others were gathered. 

 

“There were are, all done.” Hank announced in a gentle breath, setting the roll of medical tape down on its’ tray. As ever, it looked like pretty clean work; a neatly wrapped bandage rolled over the back of the afflicted hands with fingers and thumbs still able to wiggle free. 

 

Remy pulled it back glumly, but offered little more than a grunt in thanks. 

 

“You were very lucky though that all you needed were butterfly stitches,” Hank chuckled all the same, never one to take these sorts of moods personally “I’d still like to give you that sedative, though, just to be sure you get a good night’s rest. Contrary to popular belief, sleep really is the best thing for a head injury, after all.” 

 

“Don’ want no needles…” came the feeble protest. 

Ororo gave a cluck of disapproval, but Logan couldn’t find it in him to be mad. He wasn’t exactly a fan, himself. 

 

“It’ll be quick, kid. Honest.” He offered in surprisingly gentle assurance, resting a hand of his own on the other’s shoulder. 

 

Remy blinked up at him but didn’t try and protest…in fact, the youth’s gaze seemed to linger on the older man’s face, as if it would magically quell all his fears…

 

“Ow! Hey!!” the Cajun yelped not two seconds later. Hank had got him when he wasn’t looking and was already capping the used needle for disposal. 

 

“Told ya it’d be quick,” Logan couldn’t help but chuckle. Ok, maybe not the cleanest play he could have used, but at least it was done now. 

 

Still, an indignant pout fell across Remy’s face to which Logan offered an apologetic squeeze of his shoulder. 

 

“And with that out of the way, we can turn our attentions towards these little accidents you’re having, Remy.” Hank started, earnest as ever. 

 

At once, Remy cringed. 

 

“‘Accident.’” He corrected, though it pained him to do so “Only had one…” 

 

“No, actually, this is your second. You had your first when I was attending to your first set of stitches. Your uniform’s in the laundry, by the way.” Hank added, though whether it was meant to be comforting none of them could really tell. 

 

“In any case,” The doctor went on “It’s most likely temporary, nothing to be too concerned about. Still, you’re going to need…shall we say…’protection’ for a little while—”

 

“No.” Remy immediately cut him off. 

 

“You didn’t let me—”

 

“Nope. Don’t care. No. Ain’t doin’ it, ain’t wearin’ ‘em.” The cajun just continued to insist, arms folding across his chest as if that were to put the entire argument to rest.

 

“Remy,” Ororo poignantly sighed “Be reasonable—”

 

“I really must insist—” Hank started, but the lurch up the younger mutant gave startled him back. 

“I ain’t wearin’ no goddamn, baby’s diapers!!” 

 

Both fists slammed into the mattress, followed by another, deadly looking flash of pink. 

 

Ororo was on her feet in an instant, but before she could open her mouth to say otherwise the charge fluttered away without a hint of a bang. She and Hank stood, side by side and shocked to silence. 

 

Logan. 

 

This time he wasn’t so easily caught off guard. 

 

The second he saw that flash, Logan knew what to do. His hand flew towards Remy’s ankles and before the kid could even think about releasing that charge, the veteran had yanked them up in one quick motion. 

 

The Cajun lay prone now; flat on his back with his ankles still hoisted firmly in the air. 

 

“H-hey—!!” the young voice cracked quite unintentionally “Wh-what dya think ya doin’??” 

 

Logan ignored him. 

 

“Hank, could you give us a minute please?” The veteran just asked instead, turning to Hank with a look in his eye and a lilt in his voice that, surely, wasn’t to be taken lightly. 

 

“Well, I…” the doctor started, unsure at first, but Hank was a logical man above all else. Once the shock wore off…well…he had a certain idea about where this was going. 

 

“Of course, sure,” he nodded but motioned over towards the cupboards behind him “The—you’ll find them,” he decided instead, before taking his leave. 

 

Logan didn’t bother asking Ororo; she wouldn’t leave, that he was sure of. 

 

So, here they were; two frazzled adults and the boy that had managed to cause so much fuss. 

 

From over his bony knees, Remy tried his level best to cast his assailant a dark look; but all things considered, it just looked comical. Logan wasn’t phased, nor was Ororo impressed and the worst part about it was that he couldn’t freaking blame them! 

 

“The fuck ya think ya playin’ at Logan?” The Cajun still tried to snap, his fists pounding once again onto the mattress. There was no charge this time, but whether that was from lack of nerve or concentration Remy didn’t want to think. 

 

Logan didn’t say a word. The line of his mouth stayed pulled tight, while the rest of his face held a glare that, honestly, Remy couldn’t put a word to. 

 

The skinny hips tried to wriggle; no dice. Man had a grip like a vice.

 

“Lemme go!” he just demanded instead. His rear was tilted higher. 

 

“Logan!! I fuckin’ said—Owww!!” —A smack.

 

“Hey—!!” —Then another. 

 

“Quit it!—Ah!!—Ya Can’t—!! Ow!!—Logan!!—Owww!!”—and then another and another until a nice, bright pink had firmly settled over the pink flesh. 

 

Remy lay there still, eyes wide with shock, while Logan looked perfectly nonplussed at the whole situation. 

 

“That’s enough o’ that.” The gruff man firmly decided. The lanky ankles were still dangling in his iron grip. Once again, Remy’s mouth was moving but there was no noise save for an indignant crack of his voice. 

 

“Y-ya can’t—!” He sputtered, but another smack caught him off-guard. 

 

“Can’t what, Remy? Can’t step in when ya need it? Can’t stop ya doin’ everythin’ ya can t’ hurt yaself?” Logan snapped in his stead. 

“All night, ‘Ro and I, we’ve been standin’ outside worryin’ about ya. We’re thinkin’ ‘that’s gonna be the last time we saw him, ain’t it?’ after I dragged your unconscious ass in here. Dya even know how worried she was when you took off?”

 

Logan was pointing now over towards Ororo. In turn, the weather goddess was once again standing there, arms crossed, glowering sternly down the bridge of her nose at this hapless child. 

 

Remy met her gaze for a second, then seemed to shrink back against the mattress. Shame flushed  down into his gut like a drop of heavy lead and Logan couldn’t help but notice a rather suspicious looking tremble to the young man’s lower lip. 

 

“We care about you kid. Like it or not we ain’t gonna just let ya fly off the rails. Understand?” 

 

The large hand clapped once more across the still-raised backside. Then the dam broke. 

 

Maybe it was the drugs kicking in, or the shock of everything—(or hell, maybe the kid did have it in him to listen after all)—either way, there was hardly a build to it; in less than a second Remy had gone from shocked silence to pitiful blubbering just like that. 

 

Logan took no satisfaction in the result. If anything, he felt like more of an ass than ever…still, the man kept himself looking stoic, so as to perhaps impose the sincerely direness of this whole debacle. 

 

He glanced to Ororo, but she’d already swooped down to kneel beside their sobbing charge; cradling his head as she shushed and clucked into the Cajun’s ear. 

 

Kid wasn’t going anywhere. Logan set the lanky legs back on the bed.

 

While Ororo stayed at Remy’s side, Logan moved off over towards the cupboards. She was cooing softly to him still and, this time, little bits of the conversation did manage to reach the Wolverine’s sensitive ear. 

 

“H-he h-hit me St-Stormy…!” 

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright my darling, it’s alright…” 

 

“I-it hurt…!” 

 

“I know, I know, but it was the only way to get you to listen…” 

 

“H-he hates me…a-always has…!” 

 

“That’s not true, sweetheart, you know it’s not…” 

 

A long, quiet sigh left Logan’s chest. 

 

Hank hadn’t said exactly which cupboard or where-about’s he was supposed to be looking in, so it took a few minutes of rifling. In those few minutes, at least, the wild sobbing had somewhat lessened by the sound; dissolving into meek whimpers and hiccups, along with the steady shush from Ororo. 

 

Eventually, though, Logan did find the necessary supplies tucked neatly inside one of the bottom drawers; powder, wipes, cream…along with a package of large, extra-thick looking medical diapers. He grabbed what he needed and made his way back over. 

 

Try as he might to resist, morbid curiosity got the better of Remy at the sound of Logan’s approaching footfalls. He glanced up and immediately gave a painful looking cringe at the sight of the offending item in the older man’s hand. The red-black eyes once again brimmed over, before he turned his face away with a pitiful sob of protest. 

 

He felt Ororo’s soft hand tenderly wiping the tears from his cheeks, but gave a startled blink upwards at the feel of a large palm settling atop his hair. 

 

There was no anger in Logan’s face now, no sternness…at least not beyond what he afforded everyone else. 

 

“You gonna be a good boy for me while I do this?” he rumbled almost gently, palm still smoothing across the wild locks of hair “No more fightin’ or fussin’?” 

 

There was a warmth in the gruff man’s tone that caught Remy by surprise. He blinked again, almost shyly, as his gaze once more seemed to settle on Logan’s own. Ordinarily the Cajun might have glared or muttered something under his breath…but between the tears and sedative, he was just so tired…

 

“M-mm-hmm…” He sniffled softly instead “Y-yessir…” 

 

“Alright then,” Logan nodded and reached into the crook of his arm where he’d nested one or two of the supplies. A small tub of ointment—cold cream, in fact— was set just in Remy’s line of sight. 

 

“T’help with the sting.” the older one supplied rather curtly, but it didn’t fool Ororo in the slightest. 

 

At first, Remy couldn’t help but give a slight whine when he felt Logan pushing his knees upwards. The short spanking was still fresh in his mind, after all, so it was understandable that the bright pink bottom would give just a little bit of a squirm. Ororo was there before he could get himself too upset though; one hand settled on the soft mop of hair, the other smoothing comfortingly across his tummy…

 

He gave a little hiccup, but settled down soon after. 

 

It probably helped that Logan wasn’t too stingy with the cream, either. The calloused hands moved carefully over the lightly punished skin, giving an even finish for which to lay the powder over. 

 

The thick pad settled softly over Remy’s bottom, though did give a rather loud crinkle as the front was pulled up, pushing apart his thighs. 

 

“There we go,” Logan nodded when he’d smoothed down the last tape “Good boy.” 

 

The approval fluttering in that tone wasn’t lost on Remy in the slightest. Still, both older mutants couldn’t help but look surprised when a small groan sounded out of the young man, making him clutch the top of his lean stomach. 

 

“S’matter Kiddo?” Logan was first to query, one hand absently rubbing against the side of the younger one’s thigh “Ya feel sick?” 

 

The boy just nodded glumly, turning his face off to the side in resignation. He didn’t have the energy to complain over it, yet still they seemed to fuss…

 

“It’s probably the sedative,” Ororo supplied, giving a sympathetic pet to the poor boy’s hair “Water would probably help. Would you like me to go get you some?” 

 

Much like Logan’s, her voice seemed gentler to Remy in a manner that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before…he gave another nod, this time meeting her eye and earning  a loving smile in return. 

 

“I’ll be right back then,” she turned to move. Another whiny sound hitched in Remy’s chest. 

 

“S’alright son,” Logan just soothed as she went, his hand returning to stroke atop the wavy mop of hair “She’ll be back before ya know it.” 

 

It was probably just the sedative that had him all loopy, but still Logan stayed with that same comforting air. A little sniffle sounded from Remy, before he finally turned his gaze back up towards the other. 

 

“Y-ya still mad a-at me…?” the voice was smaller than Logan expected, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

 

“Nah. Wasn’t really ‘mad’ at ya to begin with kiddo,” he offered in another gentle rumble “Just concerned. Ya scared the hell outta me, y’know…” 

 

Another tremble of that pesky lower lip. 

 

“M-m’sorry…” another whimper; Logan softened then and there. 

 

“C’mere…” 

 

With a gentle sigh, Logan reached in and hefted the kid’s upper body into a hug. Remy didn’t even try to complain; rather, Logan actually had to come sit on the side of the bed to accommodate how quick he seemed to be to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

 

When he sobered up, the Cajun would probably just blame the drugs, but Logan didn’t really mind regardless. He just swung the kid around some so as to sit him more comfortably on his lap. 

 

The lithe form was still shuddering a little in his arms. It was probably just the tail end of everything; some unshed tears and a few whimpers that needed working out, no big deal. Logan just let it happen, one hand cradling the nape of Remy’s neck while the other smoothed down the shaking back until it began to still. 

 

Gradually the whines and hiccups began to to fade, leaving only the sound of a crinkling diaper from where Logan was bouncing his knee (when he’d started he, honestly, couldn’t say) and the odd hush for good measure. Remy didn’t make to move out of the solid grip and, with how slack he seemed to have gone, Logan wasn’t sure he’d have let him just yet. 

 

Nevertheless, when Ororo returned she was very, very careful not to do anything to disturb the sweet sight. A tender smile pulled at her lips as she approached, a small plastic cup held carefully in both hands. 

 

“Here you are, sweetheart.” She gently crooned as she came to sit back on the bed, once again reaching to smooth Remy’s hair to get his attention. 

 

The younger mutant didn’t startle, just turned a bleary gaze up at the offered cup as Ororo brought it to his lips to drink. 

 

“Hank put a few anti-sickness drops in there for you, that should help settle your tummy soon,” she narrated as he sipped. It was slow going, what with how sleepy Remy was bound to be feeling, but it was no bother. Eventually the cup was drained, leaving Remy to sink his head back against Logan’s shoulder. 

 

A quiet coo was building in the back of Ororo’s throat, but she was careful about making it known just yet. Poor thing looked like he needed the comfort, if not the rest, and she’d be absolutely loathe to disturb him. 

 

“We should probably think about getting him to bed,” The responsible voice in her eventually had to concede, albeit with a bit of a sigh. An odd noise sounded out of Remy, almost like a whine, as he pulled a face and tucked tighter under Logan’s chin. She had to blink; his eyes were tight shut, she thought he was already asleep. 

 

“No?” Logan just chuckled some in his own vague sense of surprise “Alright, five more minutes.”

 

Another gentle bounce or two was all it took to settle the younger one down again, helped along by Ororo’s hand once again smoothing down his cheek. 

 

They sat there a while, the three of them, cuddled together long past when Remy finally did fall asleep. Neither of the older mutants were keen to lay him down—couldn’t be too careful, afterall, right?—and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company all the same. 

 

“You old softie…” Ororo chuckled gently as she lay her head on his free shoulder. 

 

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Logan grunted back, but still her coy grin persisted. 

 

“Oh come on,” she lovingly needled as she sank that bit more of her weight against him “Don’t be like that. Why, I had no idea you could be so caring, Logan,” 

 

“Just keepin’ him from hurtin’ himself, s’all.” He seemed to admonish; but there was no heat to it, really. No fooling Ororo, afterall. 

 

A little noise sounded from Remy’s sleeping form; Logan tucked him tighter against himself without a word. 

 

“Right…” Ororo just chuckled again, the shaking of her head testament to how she totally believed him “Well it’s nice to see, is all I’m saying.” 

 

He turned his head to plant a kiss atop her own head. 

 

“Yeah, well. If I don’t he’s just gonna wind up gettin’ himself killed, ain’t he?” He tried not to inwardly shudder at the thought. Ororo hugged his bicep tighter. 

 

“We won’t let that happen.” it was her turn to softly admonish. 

 

“No, we won’t.” He firmly agreed. 

 

Their gazes returned to the bundle of trouble, still snoozing, in Logan’s arms. He seemed so peaceful now…hard to believe he could cause stir up so much hell with just a snap of his fingers…

 

“S’gonna be the death o’ me, this little brat…” he chuckled almost lovingly. 

 

“Oh hush, you’re too stubborn to die and you know it.” she just murmured, a playful swat on his burly arm serving as reprimand. 

 

“Right.” He snickered with a shake of his head “In all seriousness though, we should probably get ‘im tucked in. Hank’ll have our heads if he thinks we’re keeping his patient awake.”

 

As sound as the logic might be there was, admittedly, just the tiniest hint of reluctance in the idea and more so in the nod of agreement Ororo gave soon after. 

Never in their life had either of them moved so carefully.

 

At first, Logan was actually a little reluctant to stand lest the movement accidentally jostle Remy awake, but a creak in the bed’s metal frame nixed the idea of just sliding him back onto the pillow. Both held a tense breath, waiting for the younger one’s head to pop up off of Logan’s shoulder, but after a few beats all seemed fine. 

 

Still, Ororo wound up helping to support some of Remy’s weight as he was laid down. He was still a grown man after all and Logan, strong as he was, was still only able to do so much; if his bottom came down too fast then he was bound to startle and, besides, this saved having to readjust him later. 

 

They did everything right, not even the slightest little bump; yet still the Cajun’s face scrunched in his sleep. 

 

“Shh, shh, shh…” 

 

“S’alright kiddo…” 

 

“We’re here, we’re here…” 

 

The two cooed and shushed almost desperately. Another held breath, coupled with a ton of gentle petting…and he’d drifted back off to sleep. 

 

A sigh of relief echoed from Ororo’s chest as she carefully tucked the blankets up around their charge’s shoulders. Logan’s thumb just kept smoothing absently over the sleeping brow as she did so. 

 

“There…” she finally breathed and slipped quietly back into Logan’s arms. He squeezed her slim frame tight, but their gazes were still set on the boy before them. 

 

“S’almost cute when he’s asleep.” Logan rumbled softly, earning a gentle nod from Ororo in return. 

 

“Adorable, even.” she added. 

 

The two lingered in the med-bay for a long while more; all the while watching over this wild, mischievous, helpless boy. 

 

 

The end.